"I don't typically stay up here for long periods of time, nor do I really need food in the first place." Ordephus sat stone-still as Iver inspected the wound at his neck, and if he were being honest, he was terrified. Not only could he sense Iver's displeasure, but there was also still the "No consequences" threat in the air. And the elf currently had his hands near his throat. "I'll have to go down to one of the towns for real food later, but for now, all I have are the potions."

"How old are these?" Noctifer asked, holding the bottle dubiously.

"Well, technically potions don't expire so—"

"Ordephus."

He turned slightly to give him a sheepish grin. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

With a reluctant sigh, Noctifer tipped the potions into his mouth, expecting a rotten taste. He was pleasantly surprised, however, finding that it tasted just fine. It was filling and distinctly tasted of bread and table beer. He would have mistaken it as table beer if it weren't for the consistency. Still, it had nothing on a good, solid meal, but it would do for now.

"It is quite odd," Iver suddenly said, beginning to rewrap Ordephus' neck. "I know it is a sword wound, but it behaves as an unseelie wound."

Ordephus blinked at that. "I suppose I did suspect it wasn't healing as it should have, but I didn't think it would be like that."

"Perhaps it has something to do with what King Ragvnarch said to you?" There were a few beats of silence as Ordephus only stared back in bewilderment. "He said something to you, and you reacted to it before he—well . . ."

"My deaths aren't a sensitive topic to me," Ordephus assured, but shook his head. "Unfortunately, I sometimes lose my memories of what happens seconds before my death. That must be the case in this scenario because I don't recall the King ever speaking to me."

"Is there a chance that you will recall it eventually?" Iver asked, his brow furrowed. "It looked to be important."

"Perhaps," he replied tentatively. "I suppose it has happened before, but that's usually years after the event when something triggers the memory. But I'll keep thinking of it." He then stood as Iver moved to Argent, who still slept as the Dew of the Gods continued to do its work. "Now to find my spellbook."

"Oh!" Iver picked the spellbook up from the side table. "Noctifer picked it up before we ran."

"Ah, not that one. I made that one to carry the common spells since I can't have my real one stolen. That would be disastrous. In fact, Argent should keep it until he's old enough to make one of his own. I need my old one since it has an illusion spell that doesn't need a constant supply of mana like the one I cast on Argent before." He looked to Noctifer. "That's why you had trouble seeing through my illusion. Don't think I didn't know you were trying."

Noctifer shrugged. "I was suspicious, and it turns out I was right."

"Do you need it now?" Iver asked.

"Well, I can't waltz into town like this," Ordephus chuckled.

"You should wait until Argent awakes, since—" Realization dawned on him as he watched Ordephus look away with guilt. "Since . . ."

"Is running all you know how to do?" Noctifer growled, stepping forward towards the legend. "You aren't even going to tell the boy who you are?"

"What do you expect me to do?" he snapped, glaring back at the warrior. "I'm the reason why he has that brand in the first place. How do you think he'll react when he finds out his mentor for the last few months is actually his kinds' worst enemy?"

Iver stood between the two men, reaching out to lay a hand on Ordephus' shoulder to calm him. "Ordephus, you said it yourself that you would have never taken it this far. You do not believe in this mistreatment at all, in fact, and you want to liberate them. And Argent—" His grip momentarily tightened. "The boy is very attached to you. More than you may think. If you think the boy will be angry or scared, I believe you are mistaken."

Ordephus gave a bitter laugh before pulling away, muttering, "But I've always been a coward."

He swiftly exited the room, and Iver moved to go after him. Noctifer, however, held the elf back.

"Let me talk to him," he said, stepping out of the room. Luckily, Ordephus didn't go far. Only into the workshop where he browsed the shelves of many, many books. He settled nearby, leaning against a counter. "You don't have an organization system established?"

Ordephus gave a long-suffering sigh, turning to face him with his arms crossed. "Alright, I'm listening. Go ahead and give your opinion on the matter since you'll say it whether I want it or not."

"Then let this be from one father to another." He inwardly smirked when Ordephus' demeanor changed instantly at those words, his eyes widening momentarily and his posture relaxing. "You obviously haven't noticed how Argent latches onto every word you say, or how he seeks your approval. You didn't see how much he cried or how he fought against us when we had to take him away from your body. The boy is perceptive, and I'm sure even he knew you were more than what you said back when you were Darin. But that boy loves you, Ordephus, and you mean more to him than just his mentor. You'll only hurt him more if you keep this from him."

"Well," he shifted his weight, "I suppose he did ask me what I was back when we met. But this is bigger than a simple 'My name isn't truly Darin.'"

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind," he responded idly. "Not that you shouldn't find your original spellbook, but don't keep this from the boy. He deserves the truth."

A commotion caught their attention, and they both straightened as they heard a struggle from the room where Argent and Iver were. A white blur passed him as Ordephus reacted first, and Noctifer swiftly followed behind. As they got closer, they could hear Iver talking in a calm, yet firm voice as another argued back.

"Iver, I heard him! He was right there!" Argent said, sounding strained.

"You need to calm down," Iver urged. "You are still hurt!"

"Darin's alive! I know he is! Please, we have to go back!"

Without thinking, Ordephus entered the room, and Noctifer was close behind. Iver and Argent still stood next to the bed with Iver holding onto Argent's arms as he pulled against him. He was pale and still looked a bit sickly, but it was apparent his strength stayed with him. Either that, or he truly was desperate to get back to his mentor. Unable to ignore the boy's cries—he blamed his instincts—Ordephus strode towards them to calm the boy, but stopped suddenly when he remembered who he was currently. It was too late, however, and Argent's attention snapped to him. It felt as if an eternity had passed as dread pooled into his stomach, but Argent reacted much differently. With a final tug against Iver's hands, Argent lunged for Ordephus, only to stumble as his bad ankle throbbed with pain. Ordephus was quick to react, however, as he caught the boy. They both tumbled to the floor, but Argent held tight as his arms wrapped around his neck, and he buried his face in his shoulder with a relieved sob. Stunned, Ordephus could only follow his instincts as he cradled the boy against him, running a hand through his hair as he quietly comforted him.

"I'm here, Argent. It's me," he shushed, carefully shifting Argent's weight as he prepared to get them both off the ground. "I'm taking you back to the bed, though, alright? You're still recovering."

Careful of the boy's injuries, he stood and carried Argent back over to the bed. Argent stubbornly kept his hold around him, however, when he tried to set him down. Unwilling to separate the sniffling boy from him, Iver worked to shift the bedding around so Ordephus could sit with the boy in his lap. Noctifer had left for a bit, returning with a glass of water that he set on the side table. After checking Argent's injuries, making sure nothing worsened from the fall, Iver ushered Noctifer out of the room with him. Noctifer didn't object in the slightest. This was something the boy and the legend needed to sort out themselves.

A few minutes had passed before Argent had calmed, but he continued to keep his face against Ordephus' shoulder. Ordephus, on the other hand, didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure what to even say to Argent in regards to him being, well, Ordephus. He would have to come up with something, however, as Argent pulled away, wiping his eyes with his hands before looking directly into his eyes. It took everything in him to not look away as silver eyes peered at him curiously. Instead, he silently gave him the glass of water, setting it back on the side table once Argent had drunk all of it.

"So you're not Darin," the boy stated matter-of-factly, and Ordephus could help but smile a bit at it.

"Not in name, no."

"You're . . . Ordephus?"

He nodded, watching as Argent looked away for a second with a contemplative expression.

"So . . ." Argent looked back up at him, befuddled. "Why do you need a spellbook in the first place?"

He was not expecting that, and he stared back for a solid five seconds, absolutely dumbfounded. Not knowing how else to react, Ordephus tossed his head back with a burst of laughter.

"Hey!" Argent scowled and shifted back so he could face his mentor more easily. "It's a serious question!"

It took a moment for Ordephus to calm himself, wiping away tears of joy and relief. "Sorry, sorry. That wasn't how I expected you to react at all." His smile wavered. "I assumed all dragonkind hated me."

"Oh. Well—" He scrunched up his face. "We do. I mean, from what all the others told me, you hated us because we're children of the Fae, but then . . . does that mean the stories aren't true?" Realization seemed to dawn on the boy as he looked up at Ordephus with a conflicted expression. "Why would you save me if you hated me?"

He gave a heavy sigh. "It's a long, complicated story, I'm afraid. But the short answer to why is because I never could have predicted that humankind would go to the extent of branding and enslaving dragonkind; separating families for the sole reason of causing more pain."

"Family is what we should treasure and guard the most," Argent said reverently, repeating something that had always been told to him. Ordephus nodded his head in agreement.

"That's correct. I realized that too late, and lost everything due to my mistakes and greed." He gave the boy a lopsided smile. "I'm not that different from you, actually. I was the eleventh son of Larrag, a dragoness, and Agkaneel was my half brother."

"Didn't you . . ." Argent hesitated, piecing together the words his mentor had said so far. "You did kill him, didn't you. And you lost everything because of it."

Another nod. "The dragonkind are right in telling me as a villain."

"But you're going to fix it, right?" the boy asked, leaning forward with hopeful eyes. "Because that's what you do. You help people."

He still sees me as a hero. The thought was a melancholy one, but he couldn't help but smile softly at Argent's view of him. He reached forward and lightly ruffled the boy's dark hair. "Even if it takes me a thousand years, I will free the dragonkind," he vowed.

Argent grumbled a bit and pushed Ordephus' hand away before trying to fix his hair in vain. He found he was reluctant to let go, however. Instead, he said quietly, "Thank you for saving me."

"I would have done it even if I wasn't Ordephus," he replied honestly. He didn't expect Argent to launch forward and hug him once more, but he quickly reciprocated. Any descendant of a dragon had strong familial instincts, and even Noctifer had noticed. To him, Argent wasn't merely his apprentice. He wondered if Argent recognized it as well.

"I know . . . but I really mean it," Argent murmured before pulling back enough to look as Ordephus again. "So what do I call you now?"

"Call me whatever you like."

It took a moment for Argent to mull it over. The most obvious choice was calling him Ordephus since that's who he really was, but he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He knew the person before him was good, he really did, but he would have a hard time differentiating the real Ordephus from the old one. The next option would be calling him Darin. Argent felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as an image of "Darin" lying dead on the ground flashed through his mind, and he quickly discarded the idea. Let Darin stay dead, he decided. That was when a third idea passed, and his eyes lit up as he looked back at Ordephus.

"Guardian," he declared.

Ordephus raised an eyebrow in intrigue. "Guardian?"

"Yeah, because that's what you are to me."

Gods above, this boy is too good for his world, he thought with a grin, nodding his consent. "Guardian it is, then."

Argent beamed and was about to say something else before his stomach growled. With an embarrassed look, he asked, "Is there any food?"

"Well, at the moment there's only potions," he said, moving to stand from the bed, "but I was going to do a supply run very soon."

The boy grabbed his wrist before he could walk more than a step. There was an uneasy look on his face. "Can I come with you?"

"It depends on what Iver says about your ankle and ribs." He gave an amused sigh as the boy's face morphed into a slight pout. "I won't be gone for long. And for the situation currently, I was only going to the door to tell Iver or Noctifer to get you a nourishment potion and more water."

"Oh." He dropped his hand away. "I guess that's ok."

Ordephus laughed at that, and walked to the door, opening it to find the swordsmen not far beyond it. They both looked in his direction as the sound of the hinges soft creak.

"The boy requests sustenance," he said with a grin before returning back into the room.

Word count: 2472